You Can Hate Me, After You Pay Me
by sambeam
Summary: Bella Swan is a high school prostitute from Arizona, the new dangerous girl in town. Edward is bored with normal life and is obsessed with finding pure beauty in anything. All Human, OOC. Normal pairings. Lemons. Angtsy deliciousness.
1. Chapter 1

Bella

Don't judge me.

It's not like I had dreamed of doing this all my life or anything. I mean, does it really reflect that much on a persons personality? Does a job really make people hate you, and not want to be seen with you?

It would seem as though.

I wasn't always like this. I had like, actual fucking friends... not just fuck friends. But, you don't really need any of that, no friend will pay your way through University, or supply you with enough cash to back pack to Croatia.

Fuck Friends will though. A couple carefully placed hand movements and a thrust or two (sometimes thousands) and you are one your way to complete and total happiness.

And, no. I don't mean an orgasm. I mean two crisp fifty dollar bills left on the night stand when you go to wash up.

That's my happiness.

I'm mulling this over in a plane. Not flying anywhere special. Just flying to Forks, Washington.

It's no Croatia by any means. What I can remember of the place, from the visits when I was a kid, are that the place is populated by somewhat awkward and not-good-looking kids around my age, and that it fucking rains like a pregnant woman on a long car ride.

"Now, Bella... I talked to this Emmett fellow, and he says he wants you to meet him in the cafeteria at lunch. He's says you'll know who they are when you see them. He's a funny fuck I tell you, had this joke about bongs and pussies or some shit. But anyways, he's says the wages are a bit higher, because everyone there has nothing better to spend their money on." Roy babbled on.

I was barely listening to him. I had never fucking liked him. He liked to think of himself as this huge pimp type, but he wasn't. He had two girls, me and this girl named Reagan. We were doing this before he found us, but he seems to think that he started it.

Thanks to us, he could fly with me to and back from Seattle without blinking an eye.

"Yeah. Right." I mumbled, turning my eyes back to the copy of _Les Miserables _that I stole from the library back home in Arizona. Fuck, I missed it there. The blinding heat and the dryness. The tangy smell of burning dirt.

I think I would miss my mom too. As much as I didn't want to admit it. I mean, I told her everything.

Well, except for the sex.

And the drinking.

And maybe the cutting ordeal went unmentioned as well.

Was it chance that she walked in when I was wielding a razor and maybe counting my money at the same time? Maybe it was. I can't find enough energy to care right now. I've been up night after night... thinking about coming back here and having to live with my dad. Charlie. Such an unassuming name.

He was an unassuming guy. He didn't have any problems... well, except for being alone. He was the chief of police in Forks, which basically required that he sit on his ass all day and represent out in public.

My mom was the exact opposite. She _could not _be alone. She hated it. Even when she left the house to go and try out another one of her many hobbies she had to have a group waiting in an idling Prius out front with a bucket full of flavour infused coffee and gossip.

I think I was a mix of the both really. I liked being alone, and I was more quite like Charlie. But I didn't want to _stay _alone, not forever. I also couldn't help but care about what people thought of me. I was alone at school mostly, Reagan being my only real friend... but believe me, she's not the kind of girl you wanted to be seen in public with.

So, I mostly stayed in the library in my down time, reading books and acting modest. In retrospect, that was probably a good idea, it only added to the innocence of me, which every teenage boy was eager to destroy.

That was one of the only rules that me, Roy and Reagan had. No one over 20. I mean we're kids for god sakes, not full fledged hookers.

It may sound lame, but I want the big house in the country with the husband that cooks me breakfast in bed and reads to me when I'm sick. The kid issue is a little iffy as of late, but I'm sure I'll probably change my mind in due time.

If you were to peer into my life than you would see that I'm terrified of boredom. That's why I think I started this whole 'job' in the first place. Everything is always new and exciting.

The drinking is to forget about it. And how much of a horrible twisted bitch that I am.

The cutting is to feel something besides disappointment and regret about every single little fucking _stupid _thing that I do.

Fuck, I am full of self pity.

"Folks, we'll be landing in Seattle in around five minutes. Please get to your seats and secure your seat belts." I heard the cool and clear voice of the Stewardess over the crackly intercom.

I wish I could be like that. Have a secure job that affords me very interesting opportunities. Like traveling five places in one day. Or splicing a penis onto a roll of film. Or maybe peeing in a bowl of clam chowder at a fancy restaurant.

But I'm not. I'm boring and ordinary. And there's nothing worse in life than being like that.

"Well shit Isabella. If I had known that you were going to be such a piss-poor flying mate, than I wouldn't have wasted my money." What Roy meant by that was that he wanted me to suck his dick or something along those lines in the bathroom. As if. He had always been hinting at him wanting me to fuck him or some shit.

Even _I _have standards.

"I didn't ask you to come. In fact, I think I remembered me telling you not to come, because I can't stand the sight of your face." I whispered so the woman that was sleeping beside me wouldn't hear.

Roy chuckled, ruffling my hair and kissing my forehead. "That's why I love you. Because you're such a bitch." Roy patted my head one more time and fell back into his seat.

The remaining three minutes until the plane bumped roughly onto the tarmac runway seemed like a life time.

I wanted to fucking start over. Say no when Tyler Spacey, offered to give me 50 bucks if I sucked his dick at a party I went to. I was 15, he was 18. What was I supposed to say? No? Like I would commit social suicide like that... and plus, it was 50 dollars... you can get shit done with that.

So I did. I remember it being slightly uncomfortable for me, because he kept jamming my face down, and I was basically choking and my neck was hurting from resisting him so much. But three minutes and a high pitched wheeze later and Tyler was finished, tucked himself in and threw fifty dollars at me. All fives.

And that's how it started. Word of mouth. I did that for a while, fifty dollars for an out of this world orgasm. I got _tons _of business, one more awkward than the next. But none of them seemed to notice except for me.

Eventually I started to forget their faces. All I could remember was the money.

One twenty. Two tens. Two fives.

Four tens. One Five. Three ones. 8 quarters.

Crumpled up fifty, bent on the upper right corner and a time and date scribbled on the bottom left hand corner. Aug. 8th - 3:45.

I didn't actually start having sex till I was 16. And that's only because-

There's the wall. I can feel myself put it up every time. And then I can't finish the story. Oh well, another time.

"Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to Seattle. Have a great day," This time it's the pilot's voice, deep and experienced. Debonair and cultured.

"Fucking finally," I mumbled, stuffing my stolen book into my bag. The old lady chooses this time to wake up and glares at me through the confines of her thick and yellowing glasses. I smile weakly and turn back to Roy and look out at the gray sky that seems to stretch on forever.

Fuck me.

Edward

Underneath the water everything was silent.

I opened my eyes and ignored the stinging of the many mixed up probably harmful chemicals and human bodily fluids that were flooding my eyes. I think I was the only one in this stupid town that actually swam in the lake. For a couple of years at least.

I could see, not hear, the raindrops. Falling on the dusty brown surface of the lake and making perfect little circles, making the water clear for a split second. I watched for about twenty more seconds, marveling at the beauty that I just couldn't explain to anyone else, before I needed to come up for air.

I broke the surface and could barely feel the raindrops hitting me. But I could see them. It's amazing how much sight is linked to reality.

I continued to float there until I gradually sunk under the water again. I opened my eyes, just as a flash of lighting bolted across the sky. All I could see under the water was the many bubbles streaming from my mouth and nose illuminated into tiny circled orbs.

Sometimes I feel like I could cry from the amount of beauty I see in each day. If you look, really look at everything in the world, you will see insurmountable beauty.

Take a spider for example. The cause of many high pitched screams at all girl sleep overs_._ A case of study in children's science books where they _oooh _and _aaah _at the grotesque arachnids.

But what if it was an early summer morning, six at the latest. The clear and pure sunlight beams coming through the slats of your blinds. What if you saw a small almost translucent spider climbing along the slats, the sun light illuminating him and making him almost sparkle. Would you think he was so ugly then?

Everything's beautiful in the right light.

I realize that I need to breathe. I do that sometimes, forget that I'm submerged in water, while I'm deep in thought.

I surface again and realize that the rain is coming pretty hard, and that it's probably unsafe to be swimming when it's like this. I rise out of the water and walk back slowly to the shore, my feet squishing the tiny rocks in between my toes. I grab my soaked towel off of the worn out picnic table and drag it through my hair repeatedly. No results as you've probably guessed.

I grab my under used cell phone out of my shoe and look at the LED illuminated screen. It casts a blue light over the trees and the makes the water dripping down my chest seem like shining drops of nuclear matter. Fake beauty.

Five missed calls. Five text messages. I don't even need to check to know that they're from Lauren. Or maybe Jessica. But does it really matter? Is there that great a difference between the two?

The answer is no. There is no difference. Everything is the same. Everything is always the same. The people are the same, the weather is the same. No excitement in any of the company. That's why I come out to the lake, far into the rural part of the city that no one come to just so I can have a few hours by myself. So I can appreciate the real beauty of nature.

I put my shirt and shoes on and throw my towel and phone into my bag without even checking to see what the messages said. I walked here, so I will have to walk back. But I don't mind, the walk is completely straight, and there is no hills

After five minutes of stumbling down the waterlogged shoulder of the endless expanse of road, I realize that the pent up energy I collected lying completely still in the water is probably not going to go away by walking.

I start to run. Slow at first and then faster and faster until the water burns my eyes and my body feels like it's vibrating with energy.

One car passes by, and I look and see that's it Charlie Swan's police car. He has been the source of gossip for at least a month now. His like, drug addict daughter or something was coming to live with him. I was running on the wrong side of the road so I could see through the passenger side window. Even though it was pouring the girl had her window down. Her hair and face were soaked and she looked pensive from where I could see.

She didn't look like a drug addict to me. Probably needed some sleep. I didn't judge people's beauty before I had actually talked to them, because they were usually ugly to me within the first couple of seconds.

Like, take Rose for example. A friend of my brother Emmett. She was beautiful, in the kind of way old paintings of angels look. But she was mean, to put it lightly. And that kind of lessened her appeal.

So I tried my hardest not to judge the Swan girl on her beauty before I had met her.

**AN: I made two movie references in this chapter, very subtly. If you can mention both of them, you will be greatly rewarded... I'm joking, I'll probably just update faster. REVIEW PLEAZE. **

**P.S- Things will get a lot more juicy as time goes on... so please keep reading and shit.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

Bella

To say that dinner with Charlie that night was awkward would be a falsehood in the highest sense.

Like, me knowing the he knew that we both knew was painful to say the least.

As predicted, it was pouring the minute I stepped off of the plane, fat, salty raindrops falling in thick sheets that obscured all vision.

We didn't talk.

I mean, like _nothing. _Not even a greeting when I got off the plane and saw him sitting dejectedly in one of the futuristic looking benches in the baggage collection.

Not even when we were driving and I put my window down, mostly just to get him to tell me, no... it's raining too hard for that. But he didn't say anything. He didn't even turn up the radio when the sound of the rushing wind and pounding thunder made the music almost impossible to hear.

He just looked ahead. Never blinking. Never even seeming to breath. I looked out at the rolling expanses of green hills and healthy trees. No doubt the product of the idiotic amounts of rain. We passed a guy running on the street, battling against the strong winds. I couldn't bring myself to care who it was.

I started to cry a little, the raindrops mixing with my tears so well that I convinced myself that I wasn't crying at all.

I was crying because I screw everything up.

I was crying because I couldn't care enough about how much I fucking screwed things up to actually _stop _fuckingscrewing things up.

"Your mother told me to set up appointments with the guidance counselor here at school. They're on Thursdays after school. I want you to... I mean I'd like it... if you would um... go. Please. If you want." Charlie mumbled out around a Grilled Cheese sandwich. He had made two, one for each of us and then refridgerated them, heating them up in the microwave when we walked through the door.

The whole patheticness of it almost brought me to tears.

It's so weird how I can think about all this shit, and barely notice that this is like, the first thing he's said to me in at least a year.

Of course, it started with 'your mother'. My father was still infatuated with her, and couldn't even bring himself to admit it. He still had his wedding ring, in the breast pocket of every shirt he wore. I had seen him putting it in there a few years back, and I'm positive he still does it.

"Um. Yeah, I'll go dad." I said, looking up from the beige plate where I was ripping the slightly soggy brown crust into smaller and smaller pieces.

He nodded silently, looking straight ahead and seeming slightly relieved that he had cleared that hurtle safely.

The coffee on the white-ish table cloth looked like Art Garfunkel.

The grease stain on the wall behind the stove looked like Gina Davis.

The girl in the mirror looked like a slut.

I do that a lot. Stare at myself in the mirror... looking for fucking something. I'm not going to lie to you or myself... I'm pretty. But no one's ever told me that. I've heard hot... sexy... fuckable thrown around in casual conversation, but never ever beautiful.

I fell on my twin sized bead, turning my face and burying my nose into the softly worn fabric, breathing in the familiar smell of sleep and being content. I reached blindly for the lamp and was able to flick off the switch.

The room was in darkness for a couple seconds while my eyes adjusted. Eventually I could make out everything from the dim amount of light coming in through the yellowing lace curtains.

It's kind of funny- yet sad at the same time- that you will never truly see nothing... anything, whatever. You'll always see something, your vision will always be plagued by some inconsequential piece of nothingness.

I closed my heavy eyelids and tried to regulate my heavy breathing and tried to console my heavy heart.

Even when you sleep you see the backs of your eyelids.

Edward

**SexyFox101: OMFG! Edward! Where were u?!**

**EdwardC: I was just out, I'm sorry I didn't return your calls.**

**BJQueen: Lauren! Stop hogging him! Lmao, u cant have all of him!**

**EdwardC: I'm going to, uh, go to bed.**

**SexyFox101: I was just thinking about u... I was in the showwer...**

_EdwardC is offline. _

Who is on the internet at 3:00 in the morning? Okay, wait that's kind of a hypocritical comment... who's on the computer at 3:00 in the morning waiting for someone who couldn't be less interested?

I'm not sure when I became such a jerk to everyone, but I can't really bring myself to care.

Jessica and Lauren are considered to be the 'easy lays' at our school. They pine after guys like me, unfortunately, and can't really see when they are risking everything to be liked by basically anyone.

Sometimes I like to dream up what people's futures are going to be like... what kind of jobs they'll have... if they'll be happy or not. Usually they get pretty elaborate, Jessica and Lauren will grow up the same. Trying to please too many people at once, which just pisses more people off, which means they'll end up with the first guy who will marry them. And they'll have kids and get fat and get hit... and then they'll die, young... old, it doesn't matter.

But whenever I lie in bed at night and try to think of how my life is going to end, I see two things. Number one: Day after day of too much lipstick, ticking clocks, dirty looks, and quite whispers. And burning pain and boredom that won't ever go away. No matter how hard I try I'll never be happy. Number Two: The blue sky, the desert earth, stretching out into the eerie infinity. A beautiful never ending nothing.

And then I look at people like Emmett. He's fun and good looking, never sad or angry... always has a nice thing to say. He'll probably marry someone he loves and have a big house with lots of kids that he'll love, and they will adore him. He'll die an old man in his bed with his wife, and then people will eventually forget about him after he's buried and that will be it.

I'll probably end up in some mental hospital.

The clocks scream "THREE FORTY FIVE" in their blinking red lights, they seem to pierce through my retinas and reside uncomfortably in my brain.

I push the heels of my hands into my eyes and rub out the awake, and try to replace it with sleep.

Goddamn, I wish I could just sleep.

Sometimes I'm okay with it, like when I have extra homework to finish... or I have a really good book that I want to finish... but other times I'm praying, just _begging _for me to shut my eyes and to be lost in the unrealistic and soft dream world of sleep.

To not have to think for once in my life. To just be able to relax and not have my problems gnawing at the back of my neck at all times.

I lay there until morning. Until the sun starts to rise over the bumpy hills and shine through my window, illuminating the room to my tired- but not sleepy- eyes.

"Edward?" I can hear Esme's voice sound through my thick door quietly. She knocks twice for no reason and then opens my door, peering in and smiling at me.

"Hi mom." I say quietly, rising out of my waste of a bed and stumbling over to my bathroom slowly, leaving the door open as I splash water on my face. I watch the way the water splashes onto the marble of my sink, going flat and then expanding, and then dripping slowly into the drain.

Water is probably the most beautiful of all the elements.

"Did you sleep okay honey? I thought I might have heard you up at around four..." Esme hesitated, my sleep issues were something she had always had problems with.

"No, I slept fine." Actually, at four I had rolled out of my bed and crashed on the floor without trying to stop my fall just to break up the schedule of the night.

"Well, that's good. I just wanted to let you know that Rosalie is down stairs... oh, and Alice is there too... but Rosalie just looks very gorgeous today, she's wearing that beautiful top that I like. She is such a pretty girl..." Esme loved Rosalie. And she loved me... what reason was there for us not to be together?

"Yeah. Mom, I have to take a shower." I said, looking up at her though me wet stuck together lashes. I couldn't control the hardness of my voice, I was tired of people always poking and prying their ways into my non exsistant sex life. I didn't have one, I didn't want one right now- especially with Rosalie- and I was fine with it.

"Oh, well... right, have a good shower honey," She smiled at me and hesitantly reached out her hand, lifting a stray lock of my hair from my face and trying to place it in the proper place. It flopped back to were it was. Stubborn as the person that laid underneath it. She smiled once more, but in a more woe begone way and then left, her pink terry cloth robe swishing behind her.

My shower was uneventful.

The cramped ride to school with Rosalie, Alice, Jasper and Emmett was uneventful. Sometimes I think the only thing keeping me from going insane is the beauty of the world I live in.

In Math I watched the rain fall and get caught in the small, perfect little squares of the screen. And then if the wind blew just right than the water would disappear. The little square would be ready again. Ready to host some rain water for a few short minutes.

"Isabella Swan is it? May I ask why you're late? Probably on that hair style no doubt. Go take a seat behind Mr. Cullen," Those two names made me look up. Finally a face was being put to this Isabella Swan that was the topic of so much gossip for so long. Her hair was long and curly and wavy and messy. Her eyes were brown and deep and big and framed with perfect eyelashes and unnecessary black makeup. Her lips were pink and plump and turned down into a bored and annoyed expression.

Isabella Swan was pretty- maybe even beautiful... but that didn't mean anything. All it meant was that she was trouble. She was going to be hated, and she was going to be loved, but no good could come of it.

"Um, this may be hard for you to like, understand... but I'm _new _here... like how in the world am I supposed to know who this 'Mr. Cullen' is when you won't even afford me a hand wave in his general direction." Isabella grumbled, tapping her shoe on the ground. The whole class looked at her in awe. No one had ever talked to Mr. Berty like that.

He turned from his spot at the front of the room to look at Isabella, his expression hard to read. "I think we may just get along Isabella. He's the one back there, with the hair and the haggard expression. " Mr. Berty did afford Isabella with a general handwave and I hid my face in my hand. Was that what I was known for around here now? Hair and looking like a depression case?

"Thanks sir, I'm sure we will." She saluted him and walked down the isle, ignoring the stares from girls and boys alike. Jealous and lusty respectively.

"Cullen I take it?" She said, when she paused at the desk beside me. I turned my head, but didn't raise it, so her creamy thighs were right in my line of sight. Oh, what I wouldn't give to see a perfect drop of lake water running down that thigh.

"Uh, yeah." I mumbled. Goddamn brilliant. It was kind of weird. Lust. I had never honestly felt it before, and now I'm almost positive that I was.

"You have a first name?" she whispered. I didn't move my eyes from exactly where they were situated, and she slowly sunk into her seat so that her eyes were now level with mine. They were so big and shiny, I could see myself reflected in the perfect crystal clear pools.

"Edward," I said, turning back to my paper, where I was currently filling in all the holes in 'Edward Cullen'.

"Bella, thanks for asking," she mumbled, looking straight ahead at the board, snapping her gum loudly in her mouth. I wanted to see the gum, pink and juicy with her essence, her teeth imprints criss crossed randomly on the shiny surface.

I shook my head, trying to clear all thoughts of her. I tried to erase the beauty part of Bella Swan and focused in on her faults.

She had dark circles under her eyes.

She smelt like cigarette smoke.

Her lips were chapped.

"Are you fucking serious? Is he joking? Is he joking?" Bella whispered, turning to me and derailing my train of though concerned with trying to find an ugly Bella in all the pretty Bella.

"Um, what?" I asked, another brilliant comment. Can I no longer function when beauty is thrust in my face. Beauty is what I live for. Bella isn't beauty. Bella is danger.

"No fucking way. Mr. Whatever-the-fuck is making us read The Catcher in the Fucking Rye. I finished that shit when I was 10. " Bella whined, falling back in her seat and pouting.

I tried to roll my eyes without her seeing, but she did of course and smirked at me, giving me the finger and then proceeding to ignore me the rest of the class.

What a bitch.

**AN: I gots tons of ideas, that's why I'm going so fast.**

**Again, two movie/ tv show references. **


	3. Chapter 3

Bella

Um... wow.

I wanted Edward Cullen to do terrible things to me.... or vise versa.

The kid was good looking the way male models are. Beautiful and delicate, yet strong and powerful.

Fuck me Jesus, I sound like smutty romance novel.

I wiggled my ass around uncomfortably on the hard cement behind one of the portables. I was alone of course, I didn't want to go and see this Emmett just yet... I had to prepare myself.

And preparing myself concerned smoking a cigarette for lunch.

There was no rain today. A sign? Maybe, but probably not. I was going to have to walk through the cafeteria of judging teenagers and try to find who this fucking Emmett was. What the hell is 'you'll know who we are' supposed to mean? Did they have like raging genital herpes? Cold sores covering every inch of their mouths?

I sighed as I stubbed out the hardly dragged on cigarette into the pebbly concrete beside me. I rose slowly to me feet, wiping the dust from my ass and smoothing my skirt down.

Rule one when coming to a new school?

Show leg.

I walked down the almost empty halls, the only occupants long lines of freshmen sitting along the lockers. Their stares were almost worse than the ones I would surely endure in the cafeteria.

But I had perfected the art of ignoring and indifference.

I got to the large double doors of what I assumed was the cafeteria. I could hear the loud and boisterous talking and laughter seeping under the small crack of the dirty teal green door.

I took one deep cleansing breath and then pushed it open with my eyes closed. Trying to stop the inevitable by not looking? It would seem as though.

The cafeteria's noise level only faltered for a few short moments. I didn't open my eyes until I heard the noise resume to the previous volume.

When I did open my eyes, I saw table upon table filled with poorly dressed and mediocre looking teenagers. They were all eating more than they probably should have been.

Then my eyes stopped.

How could I _not _know who they were?

They were gorgeous, all four of them. No cold sores, no apparent genital herpes. Just smooth skin and shiny hair.

My legs moved forward before my brain told them too. My body was practically being pulled toward them. I wanted to tell myself to stop. That I didn't have to do this. They didn't know who I was, I could just... not talk to them. I didn't have to do this shit anymore. I could be normal.

But then _no one _would care about me. No one would care about me if I wasn't bouncing around on some guy's junk. No one would care about me if some guy didn't have to steal a couple fifties off his parents, hoping to God that they wouldn't notice. No one would care about me... if I wasn't getting rid of their awkward virginity so that they could please the girls that they loved a lot better.

Those thoughts, and those thoughts alone pushed me forward until I was standing in front of the table, two pairs of brown eyes and two pairs of blue eyes staring up at me expectantly.

"Um, hi. I'm Bella," I mumbled, blinking back tears, which just further lubricated me eyes, which just made everyone in front of me even more blurry.

"Oh, hi! So good to finally meet you! I'm Emmett and this is Rosalie, and Alice and Jasper..." I kind of tuned out for the rest of the conversation. Not sitting down, just nodding when they told me things.

Blow Jobs/ Hand Jobs: $100

Full On Intercourse: $200

Both: $250 - that's right, there's even package deals where sex is concerned.

"So... is everything um... in order?" Jasper asked, me. He was the cocky blonde with the southern drawl.

"Yeah, that sounds... fabulous," I put on the most warm and alluring smile I could. It felt fake to me even. I could feel the muscles beside my mouth protesting. It had been a while since I had smiled without sarcasm.

"Okay, well... I'll call you when I have a client. Here, take this pager. My number will pop up and then you can just call me. The clients do get kind of specific, and for an even bigger tip I would do what they say, for the most part." Emmett said, handing me a small black electronic thing, it felt cold and hard in my hand. It kind of fit the whole personality of everything.

"Unless you're uncomfortable with anything that is!" Alice, the chipper bouncing short one informed me quickly. Her smile was huge, like a billboard showing me how to be happy.

"Right... and how much do you guys get in return... like a percent?" I asked, I was careful when I asked, I didn't want to upset any high school pimps.

"They don't get anything. They're just like us. We get to keep all the money we make," The stunning blonde Rosalie told me, picking at her salad with a cheaply made plastic fork.

"Really?" I asked with slight disbelief. It never really occurred to me that girls would actually pay for sex... but looking around at the girls that sat awkwardly in their over sized empire wasted tops and their jeans with high spandex content, it wasn't that hard to believe.

"Yeah, someone's got to eat a bitch out now and again," Jasper smiled, picking nonexistent stuff out of his left bicuspid.

Ha. I might just get used to this.

Edward

If you dragged your pencil across the slightly textured paper just the right way, you could ghost over all the indents and see the pulp perfectly.

Worlds little imperfections.

Think about it. Nothing will every be perfectly smooth, have no texture, have no feel. Even with out highly desensitized fingertips you could feel the bumps and rises of the seemingly flawless faux wood laminate.

I was sitting alone in the library... well, mostly alone. Lauren and Jessica were on either side of me, talking about texting or something and I was pretending to be even a little interested.

"She is _such _a total slut. Like I mean, did you see how short her effing skirt was? And that hair!"

"Ugh, I know right? The girl needs to get a flipping tan and fast. She's not a vampire or some shit!"

It doesn't really matter who said what, I could barely distinguish one nasally high pitched voice from the other.

"Who are you guys talking about?" I asked, trying to keep up the listening facade. I couldn't really care less, those girls hated people like Hitler hated racial equality.

"Isabella Swan. I mean, she cannot get away with makeup like that, I'm the only one who can pull that look off," Jessica said, flipping her fried and died hair over her shoulder and glaring ahead. If that was her doing her makeup well, then I dreaded to see her on an off day. I looked up from my now vandalized copy of The Catcher in The Rye (an awesome book, no matter what Isabella Swan says), and Bella was indeed there, looking at the meager collection of literary classics.

Her shadow stretched perfectly over the rows of books, all jagged and shorter than reality because of the obstructions. I tried to stop staring at her shadow, I tried really hard. But it was like, so... beautiful. It may sound cliche, but her shadow was hypnotizing me. It was like I was under a trance.

Pretty messed up right?

"Edward! Earth to Edward!" Lauren waved her heavily perfumed hand in front of my face.

"Yeah?" I breathed out, finally taking my eyes away from her shadow, and looking back down at my book.

"You seemed like you were thinking really _hard _about something. Tell us what it was?" Lauren breathed, snaking her hand under the table and running it along the outside seem of my jeans, along my outer thigh.

"It was nothing. I have to go." I said, stuffing my stuff in my bag and getting out of that library like a bat out of hell. I had to stop thinking that every little thing about Bella Swan was beautiful. She wasn't beautiful. Not in the right way.

It seems kind of weird that I could think that, when two days after I would be seeing the most beautiful thing in my life. And Bella Swan was a _huge _part of it.

The last two periods were filled of overly bleached paper and strong smelling ink. Chalk dust and blinding overhead lights.

The car ride home, shoved in the backseat of Emmett's jeep, gradually having more and more space as people were dropped off.

Eventually it was just me and Emmett, trapped in a metal cocoon with the water beating relentlessly on the exterior. Trying to make me a passage to escape I'm sure.

"Edward?" I heard his voice rumble from the front seat, seeming to be carried back to me from the artificially heated air.

"Hmmm?" I mumbled, watching two raindrops commingle until they were one.

Definitely the most beautiful element.

"I was wondering... like have you changed your mind maybe? Because we stopped taking percentages and you always are talking about traveling to Europe... and you would have the money. And I'm not going to lie to you or me... you would bring in business..." Emmett looked back at me through the rear view mirror. His image, backward, than forward, than back ward again until his brown eyes were meeting mine through the fake dimension.

"Emmett, I honestly have no interest, but thanks for asking... again." It was relentless with him, morning, noon and night he was asking me to join the 'family business' as he called it. There was no lineage in this whole company.

Basically, him and his friends were horny, good looking, and wanted money.

A business was born.

"Yeah... I'll try you later." He said that every time, kind of grave and dreading it. Like I was a stubborn car door that wouldn't close properly or something. He would try to make me work later.

I had never heard him actually say it... or anyone for that matter, but I always had this feeling that everyone thought that I was slightly screwed up.

I had heard my mom telling her friend on the phone one day that I was so good looking, why didn't I have a girlfriend? Was I gay? Neutral? Why didn't I fit the same mold that Emmett did?

I'm not sure why, but none of that stuff really interested me.

Okay, this is going to sound really cocky... and like, ugly of me.... but no one was like, good enough for me... you know?

It was like I couldn't be satisfied with anything. When I thought I wanted something, or someone, something made me change my mind. I'd get freaked out, or be practically disgusted by it.

I seem more messed up as I tell this story, but whatever. Think what you wish.

The long stretch of man made rock dust that led up to our house seemed to go on for even longer than usual. I felt claustrophobic in that metal shell of a car. I wanted to float in the dirty... but some how pure lake water. I wanted to watch the rain drops make dents in the surface, I wanted to see the lightning light up all the imperfections on the whole beach.

As soon as Emmett stopped the car I hopped out and then turned back in the direction of the road, walking down the gravel path that I had just spent that entire time dreading walking up.

"Edward?" I heard Emmett half ask, half yell.

I didn't turn around. Just kept walking, hoping that maybe someone would be at the beach. Someone that wanted things the way that I wanted them. Who wanted beauty, and nothing else. That wanted happiness and everything that went along with it.


	4. Chapter 4

Bella

Fucking pager had _already _fucking gone off.

_519-555-1519!!!!!_

Could not fucking deal with that fucking beeping, mother fucker.

I was in one of my moods, one of my fuck-is-my-every-other-word-and-I-don't-give-a-fuck-about-the-consequences moods.

I wasn't even near a phone. I was in my stupid fucking truck (which I forgot to mention, because I. DON'T. GIVE. A. FUCK), and not being from fucking 1992, it didn't have a car phone.

And yes. I am the only teenager within a thirteen mile radius that does not have a cell phone. Kill me now.

So I had to sit in that car with the beeping, and the fucking beaten up copy of Cather in The Rye, and the thoughts about being a prostitute for disgusting teenagers... and thoughts about a certain boy who seemed beyond uninterested.

Like... _c'mon. _I give men who need Viagra instant boners. I made fucking Anne Heche wish she was still pounding vag. I am hot.

But Cullen doesn't even give me a second look. Not even when I practically hiked up my skirt to my nipples when I saw him with those two ugly skanks in the library.

But then again, it's not like I could date him or anything. I couldn't even fuck him in my right mind. I have allegiances with the pimp.

But then again, I don't know why I'm even bothering to think about it. It's been one day. My makeup hasn't even come off by it's own volition yet.

I finally, _fucking finally _pulled up to the house, when I reached for my shit and noticed that there was an off button on the pager.

_Fucking fuck. _

"What the fuck do you want Willie Nelson?" I growled into the phone when I had stopped screaming and kicking my truck.

"Huh. You're funny too." Jasper spoke slowly into the phone, intentionally making his accent more apparent.

"It would seem as though. So, you got me some ass?" I asked, looking absently through the mail. Huh. Charlie's middle name is Leroy.

"Yessir. His name's... let me check that... Eric something or the other. He wants you to, and I quote this "make her look like Helena Bonham Carter"... you got heavy eyeliner and cigarettes?"Jasper sounded kind of preoccupied, probably beating off or some shit.

"Don't you get enough ass? Do you really have to be jerking off too?" I said it even before I realized I had opened my mouth. Jasper laughed his ass off at that one.

"Are you kidding me? The ass I get is painful as fuck. Think about this Swan... what kind of girls pay for sex? The ugly kind. What kinds of guys pay for sex? Good looking ones. Maybe a little socially awkward, maybe a touch horny, but not terrible to behold at the least. Do you realize how much trouble girls have to go through to _not _get laid?" Jasper let the question hang there and I didn't really have an answer so I just waited.

"I'll tell you how much trouble. Mother effing tons. Girls can fucking lay back with their unwashed vaginas in the air, their fat hanging off the sides of their hips... and guys will _still _fuck them. If your over 18, and you have _not _have sex, than it's your fault. Not your abstinent boyfriend's." Jasper was kind of funny when he got into it, but I wasn't in the mood. I wanted to cry and then break something, and then cry again, and then maybe have a little visit with Mr. Shiny razor blade.

"So where am I meeting this Eric kid?" I mumbled, picking at the blue nail polish on my pinkie nail.

"His house. His parents are away for the week or something. Says to be there by eight. He lives beside the market in town a ways, you can't miss it. You need a ride there or back?" Jasper asked, obviously oblivious to the fact that I had fucking drove past him in my car after school.

"No, it's covered." I rolled my eyes, sighing when I heard Charlie's car come in the driveway. Now I would need to explain where I was going.

"Hey, since we're on the subjects of the girls I'm forced to fuck... do you know that you can fuckin' _douche your mouth!_"

I hung up then.

I didn't not need the... _hairy _details. I shivered to myself.

"Hey Bells," Charlie said quietly when he got into the house, hanging his holster on the peg by the door. I felt guilty immediately. Here I was being a sullen bitch when I should have been comforting my poor father who had nothing but grief over me.

Pffff. Another time.

"Do you want me to make you something? I'm going out at around 8..." I found it best to _tell _your parents where you were going, not asking.

"Did you make friends already?" Charlie looked incredulous. I was kind of like him, hard to get a long with. Oh yeah, and I was a sullen bitch.

"Yeah... um do you know Alice Cullen?" I figured she may call here a lot, so it was smart to mention her while we were ahead.

"Yes, I do. Tiny little bubble of energy. Never had to arrest her... so that's probably a good sign." Charlie was mostly talking to himself. I busied myself with making a quick supper for Charlie... kind of too boring to go into detail.

At 6 I went and took a shower so I could get ready for this fucking awful session. Just by asking me to dress up as Helena Bonham Carter was weird enough. Now it all depended on which one he wanted.

Helena Bonham Carter in... Harry Potter?

Helena Bonham Carter in... Sweeny Todd?

Helena Bonham Carter in... Fight Club?

I went for the Fight Club one, seeing as I didn't want to look like a total freak and I happened to have a few thrift store dresses lying around.

After an hour and a fifteen minutes of fucking painful makeuping... I looked the same as I usually did... only my hair looked slightly retarded.

"See you in like two hours dad... I'll be good." I smiled a fucking rare smile at Charlie. It felt weird. I didn't even smile at myself in the mirror.

Even he seemed shocked by it, and he nodded at me with wide eyes, tipping the neck of his beer bottle at me in some sort of passing greeting.

I jumped in my piece of shit vehicular device and started to navigate my way to where I thought the market was.

Seeing as this town consists of roads that only lead to the bare essentials, it wasn't hard to find. I got there at 8:05 and figured that smoking a cigarette while entering would probably be a step in the right direction for the whole H. B Carter thing.

I knocked surprisingly calmly on the red painted door, and tapped my Mary Jane's on the ground impatiently. Would I never be satisfied? I could see a long thin shadow come into view through the frosted glass. Here goes nothin'.

"Hi... Eric?" I asked the boy in front of me. He had just fucking swung open the door and was staring at me.

"Y-yeah. Are you Isabella?" No fucking duh, you pansy ass fucking douche packer.

"Yes... can I come in?" I motioned into the air conditioned looking house and he stepped aside. I could have _swore _I heard him sniff me when I walked past.

"Do you want a drink? I have water, and um, wine, and like pop and stuff..." The poor boy was absolutely shaking in his boots, and I felt a little sorry for him.

"How about that wine? You should have some too, so we can relax together..." You would not believe how many times I had to say 'relax' in this job. It was second to 'fuck', and a distant third to 'you're not quite in yet sporto'

"Sounds good," he gulped visibly. I rolled my eyes and went and sat on the flowered couch. The fung-shui in this room fucking sucked.

When he came back, two glasses of what looked like cold white wine in his hands, I took in his whole appearance. He was fucking tall as fuck, and really thin. Like thin enough that when I was humping him his hip bones might just leave bruises. His hair was black, and kind of slick looking. He probably had that perpetually looking unwashed hair thing going on. The kid had some acne, and some beady little black eyes. I wouldn't look twice at him in real life... but I _had _had worse. A lot worse I must say.

"Sit down," I said, patting on the cushion beside me, and purposefully giving him my approximation of 'bedroom eyes'. He seemed to like it. I only guessed that because I could see him go hard and then he practically ran towards me, surprisingly not spilling all the wine in his hurry to get to me.

"So... Eric..." I purred his name, feeling like a complete and total fucking slut, "How about we get the clean stuff out of the way... and then we can be _dirty_." I realized I sounded like a bad porn film, but he seemed to enjoy it so what the hell?

"Uh... what clean stuff?" Eric cleared his throat, looking at me nervously out of the corner of his eye.

"Well, if I'm giving you something, you gotta give me something back." I was being shameless as I usually acted in these situations. I had straddled his lap, perhaps grinding a little and looked at him through my lashes while I took a sip of my wine.

Who the fuck refrigerates wine? I tried to enjoy it even though it didn't taste as good as it should and it was kind of hurting my teeth. Eh. It took the edge off.

"Oh, you mean like money?" Eric finally clued in and I bit my lip and nodded innocently. Like I said, the boys liked them young, innocent, and corruptible.

"Um, just let me get it out of my wallet..." He said. Instead of lifting me off of his lap he just raised his hips and reached underneath him. He ground his mediocre semi- erect junk into my lady parts and then went for the full ten yards if you will. Only it was kinda more like one yard. But like half of that. But like... kind of not.

And then he moaned, and then started pulling my hips down on top of his. And then I kind of went along with it, kissing him. And maybe panting and whimpering too. I even conjured a blush practically out of my ass.

"I'm _so _wet..." I gasped into Eric's ear. Except I wasn't. This entire thing didn't even phase me anymore.

And then he _really _groaned. And then he stopped me, because I think he was about to come or some shit. And _then _he lifted me off of his lap and shakily gave me the money.

A solid 200. Four fifties.

I liked it like this, nice and quick and clean and even. I positively _hated _change. I probably couldn't stand living in Canada.

"So... where do you want me?" It had kind of a double meaning. I'm sure it's not lost on you, but it was on him.

"Um... my bed...?" He phrased it as a question. I hated when people were unsure flip floppers.

"Okay... but how do you _want _me?" I was like sexying up my voice to the extreme. Throaty and hoarse. Bringz it on. I am Bella Swan. I can have _anyone _I want.

Aaand now I'm depressed.

I couldn't have anyone I wanted. I was like this shell surrounded by a slut, surrounded by a bitch. Even if I _did _stop doing this shit, it would still be there. I would still have to live with all the stuff I did and all the people I hurt. And I kind of have commitment issues. The second exclusive, together, even fucking _we_ is thrown around, I put this wall up and then I get freaked out and then I start to act like an idiot and then... yeah.

"Bella? Is everything okay?" _Enough with the fucking questions already Eric!_

"Um yeah... so what were you saying?" I asked, touching my forehead to try to keep it the fuck together. I put down the wine on his table. He immediately put a coaster underneath it. _It wouldn't sweat if it wasn't fucking COLD!_

"I said that we should probably do it on my parents bed... it's bigger...and that maybe, I don't know... you should be on top?" Eric was blushing like a mad man now, running his hands down his arms, looking generally like a guy that was going to have sex for the first time. With a call girl.

I nodded, smiling coyly at him. I motioned for him to lead the way and I quickly shoved my money in my purse and brought it up with me. It was always a good idea to get the money in advance, no telling what they would complain about after the aftershocks were gone.

His parents room was spacious... but badly decorated yet again. I threw my purse unceremoniously on the high backed, uncomfortable looking chair in the corner, and turned back to Eric who was sitting on the edge of the bed facing me.

He looked a little uneasy.

When in doubt? Strip tease.

So I stripped and I teased, and I got down to my skivvies, and I stradled again, and then I started to undress him. Everything was really routine, he felt pleasure. I didn't. That's how it always went. By the time I had gotten him fully undressed, except for a condom, and he was leaning against the head board, he was about ready to explode.

I literally rocked _twice. _That was all it took and the kid fucking came, shivering and whimpering and panting. I turned my head inconspicuously and looked at the alarm clock. _8: 25!!!!!_

Ha ha. It had only taken 25 minutes, not even the majority of them used on sex. I guess I could go to bed early tonight.

"_Bella! Ohhhhh....._"The kid was not letting up. I guess first time sex orgasms were more powerful than most.

After he had _finally _fucking calmed down, he looked up at me all droopy eyed. It was then that I realized how unattractive he was.

"Did you come Bella?" Eric breathed. And then I lied, like I always do.

"Yes... I came _so _hard." _News flash dipshit. Girls can't come via two second sex session. _

I could kind of feel him rising again inside of me so I jumped off like he was scalding hot.

"I have to go. But I had a lot of fun." I started basically running around the room throwing clothes on my body left and right.

"Oh well, can I like give you a tip?" Eric said, reaching down into his pants and producing his wallet again. Who was I to deny the man? I smiled warmly at him and he handed me an extra fifty. I kissed him on the lips one more time and then made my graceful exit, which consisted of me tripping down the steps. Twice.

When I was in the car I smiled at my appearance in the windshield and fucking hauled ass out of there.

Eric's question rung in my ears over and over. _Did you come Bella?_ It was like my mind was an empty cavern and the words kept rebounding off every surface.

I had never _ever _had an orgasm in my life.

**AN: Huh? Curious.**

**Review if you please :)**


	5. Chapter 5

Edward

Did you _really _expect anyone to be at the lake?

There's only a limited amount of women in this city, and believe me, I've dealt with all of them at some point.

Sometimes, I think that I'm not going to find anyone, and I'll grow up by myself, being weird, and everything will be the same way it is now.

Only worse.

I'm tired of people feeling sorry for me. I'm tired of people wanting to have sex with me, when they don't even know me. I'm tired of people not understanding.

I just want someone to understand why I am the way I am.

But how can I have that when _I _don't even understand why I'm like this?

After years of self therapy, and serious psycho evaluation, I've come to the conclusion that it's my mother's fault.

When I was four, I had a cup of frozen yogurt, strawberry if I recall correctly. Esme and Carlisle had this thing about us eating anything that wasn't considered at least mildly healthy in some way shape of form. But anyways, I had this yogurt, and then Emmett being his idiot self, came running up and slammed the yogurt out of my hand. When I started to cry, Esme consoled me by pointing out that the melting yogurt looked like a sleeping cat.

I immediately stopped cry, and started thinking instead.

It was my social death from then on in.

Why did it spread that way? Why did it avoid that rock, but not that one? After that I never stopped asking questions or making stupid observations again.

But I could _still _see the ugly. I could still feel how bad it made me feel when the cold dairy product flew out of my hands. But behind that, I could still see how beautiful it was.

Life epiphanies at four.

So I've spent the years since then seeing the ugly and the beautiful. Because I'm a completely pessimistic jerk, I try to make the ugly worse and worse until I can't stand to even look at it anymore because the beauty has disappeared.

That usually is only with people.

Like Bella Swan.

She wears too much makeup. She smokes too much. She probably has meaningless sex too much. And she kind of dresses like a slut. And the swearing's kind of out of hand.

I feel like I've listed these things thousands of times before.

It almost seems like people _strive _to make themselves unpure and unappealing.

Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating just a touch. I don't think that Isabella's ugly per se, she's actually quite attractive. Attractive enough to actually make me want to act like a teenager for once.

But so does a young Demi Moore, and she's probably a huge bitch too.

And I don't know why I'm thinking so much about her, I literally _just _met her. And I didn't even have the chance to speak to her since I was having such a large internal battle.

And by acting like a teenager I of course mean actually accepting a no strings attached... um, fellatio session, behind the only restaurant in town. Instead, this awful scene chose to unfold:

"Hey," she ground out, her voice rumbling out of her throat hoarsely. I looked up from my sitting position on the ground. I had left Esme, Carlisle, Emmett, and Rosalie inside. Esme was practically begging me to go out with Rosalie, and she was touching my hair and smoothing my collar and Emmett was glaring at me (he had always had a soft spot for Rosalie, something deeper than giving her the high tippers), and Carlisle was just randomly smoking a cigar, and he was a doctor for God sakes and.... I just needed some air.

"Hello," I said. I somehow managed to sound awkward and bored in only one word. A word that was literally used millions - billions even- times a day. I have a real talent for that.

"I saw you inside," why are people always watching me? "You looked stressed. I can help _relax _you." You would have to be like...a deaf, blind, Mormon priest to not get the implications in her voice. I could hear the forced seduction in her tones. I could smell the cheap strong smelling perfume. I could see the badly applied makeup and the hopeful, pathetic expression. I could feel the resentment and revenge coming off of her in waves, the wanting to feel accepted and needed by anyone at all. I could taste the longing and insecurity in the air.

So, I thought about why she was like this. Did her boyfriend just dump her for someone less needy? Did her father ignore her, and not give her what she wants? Did her mother seem absent all the time, staring off into space? Did she want more? Because if this girl did, she was going to down the wrong path. You don't get _happy _giving rushed fellatio while your parents are meters away. You don't get _happy _doing what other people expect you to do. You don't get _happy _settling for something beneath you.

And after _all that, _it seemed too easy. It seemed to fake, and fleeting.

It was what ugly sounded, smelled, looked, felt, and tasted like. And then I couldn't even bring myself to look at the poor misguided girl. I just frowned and pouted and shook my head without saying anything. She didn't say anything either as I saw her turn on her heel and walk away out of the corner of my eye.

Ever since then, a year ago, I always thought that any sexual encounter of any kind had to feel the way that felt. Awkward, and pathetic, and rushed, and as if you were trying to prove something.

I'm not saying I was never... _aroused _ever again, just saying that I never followed through on anything.

That's right. I, Edward Cullen, 17 years old. High school guy, has never masturbated.

And yes, that means no orgasms. Ever.

Shocking. This I know.

But why waste what's supposed to be one of the best feelings _ever _on something that you're going to regret five seconds later?

So yeah, I'm basically virginal and virtuous in every way.

I've never even kissed anyone.

I'm not one to brag (see above), but I've had ample opportunities to go "all the way", but I never can.

I don't _want _that. I want more. I want everything there is in life and love.

But the outlook isn't so rosy.

I realized that I had walked past my house in my reminiscing, and now I had to turn around like an awkward idiot.

When I walked the extra five minutes home, I walked through the door and was greeted by Rosalie. Sometimes I wondered if she secretly lived her, I was seeing her too much for my liking.

She looked at my wet hair and shirt stuck to my chest. She bit her lip and rolled her eyes at the exact same time.

"Where do you go? Emmett said you just ran off." Her voice was always quiet, always cam and cool. It could be intimidating if you didn't actually know how insecure and selfish she really was.

"How do you get here?" I asked, completely ignoring her question, "Emmett _just _dropped you off." I didn't meet her gaze as I brushed past her, her English Rose and Lavender perfume swirling around my head. I instantly thought ugly thoughts. Not the dirty kind of thoughts, just the like, 'I don't want you so stop bugging me' kind of thoughts.

"You didn't answer my question." She almost whispered, following behind me quietly and gracefully.

"Where's Emmett anyway?" I asked, again ignoring her.

"On a job. Lauren had an itching for well... you know." I could hear Rosalie condescending smirk in her soft voice.

"Lovely," I almost grunted as I grabbed a perfectly green and circular apple from the fridge and went to the sink to wash it. I was so entranced by the bright green tinted water droplets running down the smooth skin that I didn't even notice that Rosalie was running the tips of her fingers through my hair.

I turned around and she ran that perfectly painted red nail in a line straight down my chest, stopping above the button to my jeans. It literally made me shiver, just a bit. I refused to look at her, and she started leaning in and I could feel her breath on my neck, and I was going to do it. I was going to kiss her.

And then I ruined it.

I looked up.

And _all _I could see was the meaningless fakeness. It was like I could see the hand prints of anyone that had ever touched her. And just as quickly as it came, the longing was gone.

She was ugly. She wasn't hard to look at. Her perfect soft looking tan skin was almost caressing the bone structure underneath, her blue eyes clear and all seeing. Her eyelashes stuck together with mascara. Her lips tinted red.

She was pretty, but not beautiful. Not the kind of beautiful that you don't have to try for.

I gently grabbed her cashmere covered shoulders, with the wet apple still in hand, probably ruining her sweater and stepped around her toward the fridge.

Suddenly I wasn't hungry anymore.

I heard her sigh, not sadly. Just out of frustration and defeat.

"I'll get you someday Edward. And I won't be charging." Her words kind of reminded me of Emmett's earlier _I'll try you again later._ Why was everyone trying to desperately to try and change me?

I sighed, this one not like Rosalie's but full of sadness and just all together bad tidings.

I took a shower. As long and hot as I could stand without like, I don't know, fainting. Then I went to "bed".

After laying in my bed for 3 hours staring at my perfectly white ceiling, I went on the computer and looked at ink blots on some Psychology website.

Apparently I'm at least mildly sane.

That killed about an hour, so I drew diagrams of where everyone sat in everyone of my classes, as well as coloured each of their desks with the colour they most frequently wore to school.

3:47

I think I wouldn't have such a problem with this whole insomnia thing if it played out like it did in Fight Club. Like, if I got to live a different, while my regular lame self was sleeping, that I would fall asleep much quicker.

And I would get to like... touch Helena Bonham Carter.

4:27

I pondered the meaning of life.

Decided it wasn't worth it.

5:01

Started reading Catcher in the Rye again. Some loser drew all over the pages with a pencil. Found it distracting, so I skipped an entire three chapters.

6:25

I could hear Esme yelling at Emmett to get up one floor down. I decided that then was as good as a time as any to wake up. I practically jogged to my bathroom, knowing that Esme would be up any second to talk to me.

"Edward?" Like clockwork I could hear her muffled voice through my door. She opened it without knocking and without asking me if she could come in.

She knew the routine. She leaned against the door that led to my washroom.

"Hey honey." She said, smoothing her brownish blond hair away from her face. I could see the little shocks of white and grey starting to shoot from her temples and widows peak. Like little hair lightning bolts. I noticed the right temple had more silver that the left. I reminded myself to look that up tonight. I realized I was staring.

"Um... did you sleep well?" She asked awkwardly, moving her hair to cover her face again.

"Yes." I was a man of many words this morning.

"Well... that's good. So, Rosalie," It was like this was a routine for her,"seemed kind of upset when she left yesterday... Were you mean to her? Also, Emmett told me that there's football tryouts tonight! You could make the team! You're so tall Edward, you could use it to your advantage! And-" I cut her off with a quick kiss, mostly to shut her up and gently moved her so I could walk towards my closet. It reminded me of Rosalie last night, and it wasn't welcomed.

She didn't take notice of my shudder of disgust.

"Well, I'll see you when you come downstairs then," she sounded thoroughly dazed, lightly touching her cheek.

It was then that I realized I hadn't even touched her in at least six months.

Is that messed up? Yes, it most definitely is.

I threw on a gray long sleeved shirt, and some way too expensive jeans that Emmett's other friend Alice had bought for me for like no reason. I was sure to be harassed about it by today. That little one could spot a quality piece of clothing from clear across the cafeteria.

I looked at my hair in the mirror in passing. A lost cause.

Life was bursting in the kitchen, Esme was scurrying around in her bath robe, and Carlisle nodded at me from behind his black coffee and news paper, and Rosalie was _already there_.

I shot a bewildered look at her and sat as far away from all of them as possible on the small island in the middle of the kitchen.

Rosalie was eating an apple, probably the one I had put in the fridge last night. Well, at least she didn't have to waist her time washing it again.

Then, she ran her finger in a straight line down it, and then licked it.

It was then that Emmett cleared his throat loudly.

"Looking for new business Rosalie?" He said loudly, I couldn't tell if he was actually mad or just joking.

"That's no way to talk to a girl. My apologies for my idiot simple minded son Rosalie," Carlisle said, still not looking over the newspaper.

"My apologies as well." Esme came up and smoothed down Rosalie's hair.

Why couldn't she just _leave_?

"Well, I've had about enough of this... children, should we be on our way?" Emmett asked, not even waiting, just randomly walking out of the house.

"Why are we leaving so early?" I took a bad chance even talking to Rosalie willingly, but she was surprisingly calm about the whole thing.

"We need to pick up the new girl. We wouldn't want her to be tardy." Rosalie for once sounded more than calm and indifferent. She almost sounded angry, and was that jealousy I detected? And then I actually listened to what she said.

We were going to pick up Bella?

It kind of made sense, I mean the group I've previously listed (Rose, Em, Alice, and Jasper... sometimes me, I was like 'y' in the list of vowels, always inconsistent), was kind of like the good looking and popular elite of the school. It would only make sense that dangerous, smoking, swearing, good looking Bella would be included.

And then I realized that there wouldn't be enough seats. And then I further realized that she would have to sit on someone's lap. And then deep, deep, _deep _down I hoped it was me that got that privilege.

Of course, it wasn't. She was currently wiggling around on Jasper's lap to the beat of whatever the hell song was on the stupid radio and I suddenly found the car stifling. She was supposed to be the one that I didn't like, but still got forced with.

Jasper looked happy, and I could have _swore _I saw his eyes roll back a little.

Ugly. _Ugly. _Ugly. _Ugly. _Ugly. _Ugly. _

I did however notice that Bella at least gave me some form of recognition, it was a glare, but it at least showed that she remembered me, and that she didn't want me.

Which, was you know... good. Because I did. Not. Want. Her.

**AN: Give me some loooooove, review if you would like :)**


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